Morning Dialogues
by AsianScaper
Summary: Captain Janeway's morning retinue: coffee, Chakotay, and homesickness.


**Title:** _Morning Dialogues_   
**Author:** AsianScaper   
**Disclaimer:** Star Trek: Voyager and its characters belong to Paramount. Fortunately, the story belongs to me.   
**Rating:** G   
**Category:** General/Romance   
**Feedback:** Friends, enemies: Send your comments or constructive criticism to asianscaper@edsamail.com.ph   
**Summary:** Captain Janeway's morning retinue: coffee, Chakotay, and homesickness.   
**Spoilers:** None   
**Archiving:** Anywhere, just tell me where it's at please.   
**Dedication:** To all the J/C shippers. For Kate Mulgrew, Robert Beltran, and the rest of the wonderful cast who made this show possible. Thank you.   
**Author's Note:** Lotsa sap for anyone who loves Janeway's character. Oh, and the quote in the beginning is a little rant on any Captain's decision to strand herself and her crew 75 years from home. Do read and review if you can. 

*** 

_"What paths we choose, such dainty choices   
Even strong fellows weep   
By the riverside of the underworld   
Where Heaven speaks."_

**Domari Kian'tann**   
'His Excellency's Last Words during the Borg Invasion of Kominar'   
(Only existing record of the Kominari Sacrifice -Larralaine Collective) 

__________________

Timeless pins of incandescent light filtered through the room in tiny rivulets, much like rivers of brilliance harkening to the view of angels. They flowed from the fiery fountains of quasars, grazing upon the meadows of a silent abyss that fell with every voice from the choir of creation. It would never have been easy to reach out into that vacuum where life lay suspended as if in wait, tiring itself with every spin from the planet's wheel, with every bright breath from the fervid mouth of the suns. They whisked past, like the temporal things they were, kissing every window in soundless caress, as if they bowed to the throne of technology, which praised them. 

The stillness it brought, the gravity of stability, which led the feet to its destiny, its hollowed ground, was skillfully doled out in tiny pockets that settled with the soft laughter of crewmembers. 

Captain Kathryn Janeway's lips curved momentarily like the passing quarter moons, her blue eyes dancing in dresses of trimmed azure, their skirts providing the changing hues of merriment as the lamp within the windows of her soul flickered and shone. 

Her sight censured the steaming cup of warm coffee embraced by her fingers, staring into the hole, which swirled and gurgled in delight. She was painfully reminded of the night sky, of the breezes simpering through the twilight fields, their quiet laughter twirling fingers about the long strands of her auburn hair. They made light shift like prisms before the bright luster of an anxious sunset, as shadowy as the fading brilliance of a promise, of a momentary rainbow between somber clouds of gray. 

The memories brought whimpering sadness to her lips and her smile offered little in the way of happiness, even as she stared in silent contemplation of the passing stars. The beacons of light grasping the night air, seizing at the masts of mighty ships to bring them safely home. The stars of the Delta Quadrant, however, were sorrowful companions. They did not sketch the dusk like they did at home, where even the quills of the heavenly sailor had upon his memory the charts of passing starships. Withdrawn from another zephyr of cool laughter, she did not notice the bliss present there yet she picked at the fruits of yearning, the soundless reflections of home that whispered in one's haughty chortle, in another's wistful conversation. 

_Sundays in Central Park…swimming at the West Coast…and the kids…the kids were beautiful…all of them._

She sipped at her coffee, wading in the lake of cinnamon, trying to remember desperately, as if the memories would visit her with unbidden ease and feel the berries now ripe with longing for the images they held. 

She tasted grief within the whisper of a hiding memory, of sharp flavors that flowed with the beauty of unbridled joy, the aroma of burning candles upon the grave. She knew pain. She knew happiness beyond the boundaries of heaven. She knew the suffering of billions upon billions of men who never were acquainted with the stillness of the afterlife yet were wrenched before the gates of Arcadia in tortuous fashion, only to be thrown in great heaps upon the feet of the serpent. 

She knew. Oh, she knew it so well, now of all days, when even the lights of the universe seemed to dim somewhat, in accordance to the adverse thoughts of a woman who knew the extent of her limitations yet never grasped the impossibility within her humanity. All this gifted to her by a greater being who knew the very alcoves of her doubt. 

"A penny for your thoughts," a deep voice rumbled beside her. The reverberation of a mighty waterfall, which turned convivial in the eve of spring, yet adequately silent in the confines of heated summer. 

The man's dark eyes flashed quantities of concern, melting her resolve to silence the monsters of doubt. She did not have to speak; her expression left little in the way of words, and he took her hand as he sought the space opposing her. The strength saturated there sought to kiss the smoothness of her aching forehead, where all the pandemonium of shouting devils cried out, serving as an ambuscade for all hope. 

"Just a penny?" she said, croaking as if she were in the verge of tears. 

"A quarter then." 

His smile crossed the eternity of space in temerity and painted joyance upon her mouth that even the frown of unwashed guilt bent to its opposite and filled the vial of her lips. She, in unknown emulation, smiled as well. 

"You wouldn't want to know." 

"I do." 

"Are you always so persistent, Commander?" 

His smile widened and those dimples provided brief wonderment for her. "Yes I am, Captain. Especially if my commanding officer looks like she'd been dipped in a pool of vinegar. What's bothering you?" 

She gestured wearily around her. "All this. I can't shake off the feeling of…home." 

"I can't either." He was thoughtful, gathering what he could of her uncertainty that she equally hated to expose. But Chakotay did not heed her weakness, and sought only to fill that which was empty. 

"Really?" She tried to look deeper into those eyes yet they were haunted by spirits, by the wine-dark seas and the study of peace. "What makes you rise above all the sadness, Chakotay?" 

He was slightly irreverent enough to laugh. "Life, my dear Captain, is not a problem to be solved, but an adventure to be experienced." 

"I think I've heard that before." 

"And you weren't wise enough to listen." 

The silence indicated her chagrin and she wagged her finger. "Ah-ah, don't take that tone with me, Commander." 

"What, you're going to send me to the brig for giving you advice?" 

"No, of course not." She sighed, drinking the tranquility emanating from him and she withdrew her hand from his, knowing that the contact had been more than what was completely necessary. "But thank you, Commander." 

"All part of the service, Captain." 

He stood. "Are you going to be all right?" he asked; his voice flowing with silk and familiarly set to a timbre of unrestrained care. 

She nodded. "I'll meet you on the bridge." 

"Very well. I will leave you to your thoughts presently." He patted her shoulder; his touch lingering there, then deftly departing in accordance to protocol. "Think happy thoughts, Captain. You'll need it for the long journey home." 

"As will I, Commander, as will I." 

Another touch, another whisper of farewell, another bend in the sigh of his lips. Then he left with the susurration of encouragement and solace filing from his confident stride. 

Watching him, she was strangely content. 

__________ 

**-The End-**


End file.
